The Pantheon

PHIL EDWARDS: Not for power, which he had at his beck and call, but for intuitive rides. Phil’s precise edge turns in surprising parts of the wave, like middle rather than top or bottom, are way more difficult because there’s no bottom to bounce off of. He was all about radical direction change midface, edge carving with little surface to hold on to. His body language was identifiable from far away. His overall aesthetic was so far ahead of everyone else in his day that surfers went in to watch when he paddled out.

MATT KIVLIN: Postwar originator of the contemporary California point style, featuring upright stance and torso—a “bend ze knees and ze ankles” snow-skiing approach, arms and hands spread low and used elegantly, riding deep and trimming from way back. Miki copied him.

MIKI DORA: Smooth and snarly under pressure, rakish, dark, and attractive, a climb-and-drop noseriding flow master. His beach style might’ve ensembled a thrift-store tweed with leather elbow patches, worn bare-chested, over low-slung indolence. Formal wear? Tux sans socks. He knew wine from his birth father, trusted no one, and was a rude and self-centered brat on both land and sea. He was also the most imitated surfer of his time.

DAVID NUUHIWA: Lanky, loose, gorgeous in motion, weightless, both facing or back-to, hung heels, tens, tip-wrapped one-legged fives. Beautiful Hawaiian flow. David’s noseriding, and otherwise surfing, was genius in his prime.

TOM CURREN: When style disappeared, having been exchanged for feet-planted, shortboard-wrenching power moves, Tom kept the power part but retrieved a natural style from California’s wastebin.

BARRY KANAIAUPUNI: Around 1969, the limits of short, minimalist, “How much less can I ride?” were being pushed by BK on a 7’0″, 17-inch-wide spear at Sunset Beach. He’d take off late at the top of a concave face, hang there for an instant, then airdrop to the bottom in an upright stance, slightly separating from the deck below him, then reconnecting as he landed, straight into a leaned-over, rock-solid swoop buried to the stringer, squirt up the face with his body leading into a snap-down at the top. Then he’d do the whole deal over again twice more, each bottom and top turn slightly more radical than the last, until he’d fly over the back. He did all of it with a bit of swagger. Shit!

JACKIE BAXTER: Once a hot-shit 15-year-old from Santa Monica, he was blond, beautiful, tan, and totally unpredictable on a wave. A swank flow master who flashed radical in any circumstance. 

BUDDY BOY KAOHI: A sun-darkened body and face contrasted his bright smile. He was a skilled snow-skier and had a beautiful slack-key surfing style—off-balance, hugely improvisational, seemingly about to lose it but rarely did. 

GREG TUCKER: Surfed like Baxter, but was taller and had more body leverage to gracefully fling around. Always off-balance, never over his board, more often leaning out ahead of it. Died young in a head-on with a taxi in the mountains above Acapulco.

[Feature image: Tom Curren’s pure talent makes him a shoo-in on any surfer’s list of favorites. Color coordination and strategic SPF placement are merely bonus points. Photo by Larry “Flame” Moore]